


God, I hate Teenagers

by orphan_account



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), X-Men (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: ALL THE GAY, Age Difference, Bad Parenting, Because of the movie I'm making Kurt have no fur, Child Abandonment, Child Neglect, Child Sexual Abuse, Cross-overs, F/F, F/M, I REGRET NOTHING, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Identity Issues, John's gaydar, Kurt Wagner centric, Kurt is just a blue elf, Kurt's "foster parents", Language, Logan gets over Jean, Logan x Kurt, Logan's a terrible babysitter, M/M, Male Slash, Mystique A + parenting, Mystique has other children, Mystique is Kurt's mother, Mystique makes a lot of bad choices, No religious markings on Kurt either, Rogue is...a nice friend, STOP SMOKING IN THE GODDAMN HOUSE LOGAN, Science Bros, Sorry Not Sorry, Stryker you fat fuck, Tad OCC, Terribly written German accents, The meddling avengers, Whump, cross-over, current media references, future!logurt, hurt!Kurt, logan hates teenagers and their drama bullshit, logurt - Freeform, loki and kurt connect on many levels, male role model logan, non beta'd, puns, yogurt, young Kurt Wagner
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-29 18:55:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3906997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>MovieAU; the x-men has caught wind of the mutant that attempted to assassinate the president, worried for the well being of all mutants and mutant advocates, Professor Xavier sends out Storm and Jean to find the mutant. You can imagine their surprise at finding out that their assassin mutant is actually a skinny little sixteen year old. This can't be him...<br/>Right?</p><p>And why does Mystique and Magneto keep glancing at each other?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Oh dear lord.  
> I've been wanting to write Logurt for so long and it has arrived. Since it's based on the movie with a few tweaks from the comic I am sad ( not really) to tell you Kurt will not be furry, but somewhat smooth skinned like Mystique.  
> So he's still a blue elf, really.  
> No Kitty x Kurt so shoo, go away haters of Logurt.

**Prologue**

 

Kurt didn't like this _feeling_. Once when he was small and when his owners still liked him, he had been allowed to watch TV. And during one of those special occurrences he had seen a documentary on patients with mental disabilities and out of the wide spectrum of it, one in particular always stayed with him. A young woman, around 20 to 25, had seemed the most frightening. She had a severe case of schizophrenia and suffered greatly from the voices in her head. The documentary showed each side of her. The good ones and the bad ones. He had watched her in bouts of unknown anger, varying degrees of sadness and brief happiness. Only when she was truly herself did she show her own genuine feelings. She would cry afterwards. Asking, “Why can't I have control of my own body?”

 

And right now he felt exactly like her. Only he wasn't sure what she felt when one of her _others_ had taken over. Was it like watching blurry short clips of film to her? Did she just fall into a realm of unconsciousness? Or was she trapped by the confines of her mind, unable to do anything as her _others_ took her body out for a joyride? Kurt could feel some control at certain times and places but for the majority he was stuck, watching from behind the scenes as his body did things without his permission. A man, an older man— _how had he known that without ever seeing his face_?—gave him instructions. Just now Kurt heard a voice calling out to him, asking if he was lost. He looked up, registering the look of confusion on the guard's face before striking.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> xD I'm okayish at writing but sometimes I mix up the POV's. This is unbeta'd so mistakes are mistakes that are my mistakes. Mostly takes place centering around the X-Men. I've changed a lot of dialouge from the movie because hey, it's a freaking AU. And thanks to everyone for the positive feedback <3 it made me so happy.

 

 

     A field trip to a local museum with students would seem like a very normal mundane thing, but to the students of Xavier's it spelled out a more...complicated time. Keeping all thirty of them in control turned out to be very taxing, but watching the excitement barely contained on their adorable faces made it worth while. Now if only the professors could say same the for their other three students: Rouge, Bobby, and John. The trio spent half of their time touching off limit exhibits and gesturing obscenely at things like most teenagers did, only when they became increasingly irritating did Ororo shoo them off into the museum food court. Scott, if he could, would've sent them away with a withering look if not for the dark visors covering his eyes.

 

  But he focused on Jean, worried of pallor tone her skin had taken. He had seen her eyes wide, darting around, her body tense—mostly likely an upcoming overload of her own powers. He kept close by, watching her. It was not until Jean had mentioned the food court again that did he remember what he was suppose to be doing. _Watching his students._

 

—

 

Rogue wanted nothing more than rip out that damn lighter out of John's hand. The click of it opening and closing drove her mad—even more so when he refused to even acknowledge the two other teens. “Why're you being such a dick?” the first one had asked. John didn't even spare him a second glance, but settled for looking at Bobby and giggling as if he knew the best joke in the whole world. Bobby sighed, leaning away from the table with a frown. He probably thought the same as Rogue. This wasn't going to end on a nice note. “Yeah, where you being such a dick?” the second one huffed out. “My brother just wants a light.”

They both squared up their shoulders, trying to look intimidating but failed, miserably. John smiled, flicking open his lighter once more. His eyes were mischievous and bright as he finally answered them. 

“I don't feel like it,” John told them laughing. Bobby shook his head, muttering underneath his breath as he glanced at Rogue for assistance. She smiled back, shaking her head. She wasn't going to be caught up in John's own mess. John smirked over at the over two of them, momentarily distracted by his own friends. 

“John, stop it.” Bobby said, “you're showing off, again.” John snickered, “Oh for you or for her? Bobby frowned, looking perplexed. “What the hell is that suppose to mean?”

“Can't help it if your girlfriend is getting excited,” John said changing the subject. Rogue noticed that one of the brothers were leering suggestively at her, giving her a wide eyed look. She could barely contain her own laughter and had o force her sight away from him. Bobby and John's banter continued. “I don't think she's getting excited.” “C'mon, Bobby, lighten up. We're all just having fun here.” One of the brothers have apparently gotten fed up with being ignored and promptly snatched the lighter out of John's hand.

“Hey!”

John stood up, ready to move forward and take it back when the other brother blocked his way, laughing.

“Oh that's really cute,” John snapped. “What're you going to do about it?” They asked in response. Bobby was already moving out of his seat as he saw the orange glow of the teen's cigarette. The brother exhaled smoke in John's face and as he went to take another drag the cigarette's glow became a tongue of flame, lapping out at the sleeve of the boy's jacket. John laughed, taking in the sight of other male flapping his arm up and down and falling over a table behind him.  “Damnit, John.” Bobby muttered in undertone. He threw his arm forward, allowing his powers to freeze out the small flame. And just before anyone could say anything, everything came to a stand still. Everyone else besides John, Bobby, and Rogue had stopped moving. Their eyes were unblinking, their bodies stopping mid-pose. Rogue poked at one of the other guests of the museum, shocked.

“Bobby, did you do this?” She asked turning to look at him.  “Uh... I don't think so,” he said softly. “No, I did.” The sound of the professor Xavier's voice was enough to make John shameful, he could already imagine his likely punishment. The other teachers and students followed behind him, all looking equally upset and awed.

“The next time you feeling like showing off,” he continued. “ _Don't_.”

He opened his mouth to say even more when Ororo called for silence. While the others in the room stood frozen the electronic devices did not. A Tv up high on the wall of the food court was on a news channel, covering the latest story: a mutant attack on the president.

_“We go live to Washington, where there's been an attack in the Oval Office of the White House. Details are still coming in, the President and Vice President have not been harmed and that the assailant is a mutant. We're not sure entirely if it was a sole assailant or not. There's two major problems I can see that need to be dealt with after this. The lack of security and the mutant populace problem.”_

“I think it's time to leave, Professor.” Scott was the first to break the awkward silence.

“I think you're right.”

 

—

 

Back home, at the school, they all congregated into Xavier's office. The children had been sent off to do whatever they please, so long as they didn't leave the school's grounds for the time being.

“I think Magneto is behind this,” Scott said tersely from his seat. “This would be a kind of thing he would do.” 

Jean disagreed, “I don't think so, he couldn't have possibly benefitted from this.” “How not?” He argued back, looking at Jean in disbelief. “While Erik is more than capable of doing this,” Xavier explained,“it is simply irrational. This would hurt his goal for mutant prosperity.” “You mean mutant  _superiority_.” Scott said softly. 

“You're right. If Erik had his way. _If_.” The Professor admitted. Ororo moved from her spot beside the long panels of the windows, her arms crossed in front of her. “Well you'll all know what'll happen if the government chooses to respond,” she swallowed nervously. “They'll re-introduce the Registration Act.” “Or worse,” the Professor added. “The President could very well call a state of emergency—placing every mutant in the country under arrest.” Scott grimaced, looking positively sour. “Do think the assailant was working alone?” Jean asked softly.

“I can't say for sure. I've tried using cerebro to track him and his movements are erratic—nearly unplaceable, but it'll only be a matter of time. I just hope we'll find him before the authorities do. If I find more exact coordinates for him, Jean, Ororo, I'll be sending you with the jet to…pick him up.”

 

—

 

_Two weeks later.…_

Rogue and Bobby sat across from each other on the couch, arms intertwined as they wrestled with each other.

“You're dead.”

“Nu uh.”

They laughed happily over their little game, unaware of how close they've gotten. Only when the snickering of the other occupants in the room did they finally look up, nearly in each other breathing space. Bobby took in the sight of his girlfriend, mesmerized by the unique beauty. White strands of hair framed her flushed face. Her hoop earrings jingling musically. He's heard how his friends have described love and knew what cues girls put out and the way she was looking at him... Did she expect a kiss?

“Well what're you waiting for Ice Man? Ain't ya gonna kiss her?” John's voice had taken on a bitter tone, Bobby could see him from over Rogue's shoulder. His brown eyes burning hatefully. Bobby opened his mouth to respond but stopped as Rogue pulled away quickly. She laughed nervously, tucking a white strand behind her ear. “I wouldn't want to hurt you.”

“I—I'm not afraid.” Bobby protested. Though it was concealed masterfully he knew Rogue's feelings had been hurt. John rolled his eyes from across the room. The loud rumbling of a motorcycle had captured Rogue's attention, a smile growing on her face. She didn't even say goodbye as she ran out of the room. Bobby glared at John before chasing after her. He could Rogue's excited voice from down the hall near the entrance and stairway.

“Logan!”

She plastered herself against the muscled torso of the other mutant, smiling so hard her cheeks ached. Logan in turn smiled and hugged her tightly. “Missed me?” She laughed, “Not really.” Logan hummed, not believing a word of it. Bobby waved lamely at Logan from behind them, feeling horribly awkward. Logan raised an eyebrow at him before turning to Rogue, “Who's this?” “Oh, that's Bobby. He's my boy—” Bobby moved forward, trying to shake Logan's hand as politely as possible.

“I'm her boyfriend. They call me IceMan.” He allowed his powers to lightly dust Logan with a thin sheet of frost. Logan looked at him, seeming genuinely surprised. It reminded Bobby of how John looked when he first told him of his and Rogue's new found relationship. Logan pulled his hand away. “Right. _Boyfriend_ ,” his eyes settled onto Rogue. “So how do you two...?” “Well, we're still working on that.” Bobby replied. Logan nodded his head, silent, it looked like he didn't believe a word of it.

“Look who came back, just in time!” Ororo exclaimed as she descended down the stairs. “For what?” Logan asked, immediately regretting it later. Ororo smiled from the very bottom step of the stairs,“We need a babysitter.” “A babysitter?” He asked her incredulously. The white haired woman just smiled, refusing say anymore on the matter. The more likely she told him the more likely he'd wouldn't do it. “Welcome back, Logan.” Jean's said as well, feet thudding as she also descended down the staircase. She was accompanied by Scott. Ororo clasped her hands together. 

“And as it is wonderful seeing you again, Logan, I must get ready and you two—go back to studying.” She left with Bobby and Rogue in tow, leaving Jean, Scott, and Logan alone. “What's she getting ready for?” Logan asked. “Storm and Jean are heading to Boston,” Scott answered. “They won't be gone long.” “It's for the mutant that attacked the president. Hopefully you'll still be here when we come back, I fear babysitting might just drive you away forever.” Jean said. Logan smirked. “I can think of a few things that I could stay for.” Scott coughed, feeling extremely uncomfortable with Logan's blatant display of flirting.

“Anyway, do you need to return something?”

“Ah, yes. Here you go.” He dumped the bike's keys into Scott's open palm. Jean giggled.

“Well I got to get ready too, see you boys later.” She left quickly after giving Scott a peck on the cheek. They whispered hurried goodbyes. “See you!” Logan said to Jean's departing form.  Scott stiffly welcomed Logan home and delivered the Professor's message. “He wants to see you down in the cerebro.”

 

—

 

Kurt was scared, dirty, and hungry. He kept moving, staying close to shadows and keeping out the humans sight. He slept in abandoned buildings and for the first time in his life he had wished for some kind healing power. He wasn't sure what hurt him, _just that it hurt_. His skin was torn along the left side of his ribcage. It had bleed profusely the first couple of days and Kurt had been forced to sacrifice one his favorite shirts in substitution for a compress. Now all that remained was a painful twinge and burning. Having no access to water or any form of medical treatment his wound became infected, festering with pus and it wasn't anything he hadn't handled before. 

But nothing could compare to hazy memories of the past few days. Loud bangs accompanied with equally loud voices frightened him, often startling him awake from his realm of sleep. He was terrified of his actions. He could remember the faces of the humans he had hurt and he was afraid that they would come after him. But the following days had confirmed they weren't and he finally allowed himself to settle onto just one area. Boston. Inside an abandoned Catholic Church. Nothing but the nesting birds and squirrels to keep him company. He curled in on himself in the rafters, clutching tightly at the tattered blanket he had found for warmth. Perhaps he was finally safe. But life was known to be increasingly unfair to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't help putting in people hinting in that they think Bobby is gay xD it's too much fun.


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I've been really busy with stuff ;-;  
> I hope you like this chapter even I think it's horribly OC.  
> And you'll see a snippet of the Avengers! Because I highly believe the President would want the best on the case, but they're not too happy about it.

 

Kurt woke up gasping for breath, his body trembling from the aftermath of his nightmares. Dawn showed through the broken stained glass windows of the church, painting the floors orange and red. The birds nesting across from him twittered nervously in their nest, chirping fearfully. He placed his hand against his sternum, exhaling sharply through his nose. Kurt had to remind himself that it was a dream and nothing more, that he was safe.…

“For zee time being…” he muttered to himself. 

Kurt began to untangle himself from his makeshift nest and crawled along the rafters, once he was close enough to the metal structures underneath Kurt jumped off, landing lightly on his feet. The resounding boom vibrated through the soles of his boots. The church had been abandoned while it was being remodeled, it worked perfectly for someone as nimble as him. If he ever needed a quick getaway he would've just climbed up, slipped through broken windows and disappeared. Almost like a circus act, but not quite. Kurt's stomach gurgled pitifully. Biting down on his lower lip he spared a glance out one of the many windows and found the streets still empty. Usually he wouldn't even consider leaving but he was so damn hungry. Like he hasn't eaten in days, which was more or less true. Looking back up to the rafters were his makeshift nest was located he made his choice, and slipped from the double door entrance of the church.

Once he was outside swaddled in his oversized trench coat, Kurt crept stealthily down the alleyways, following the scent of food being cooked. A small diner two blocks away was relatively busy, their parking lot containing only two other cars. Kurt could could only see three workers, a curvy black girl who wore a shirt emblazoned with the tiny diner's name, a paunchy older gentlemen wiping furiously at the dirty countertops, and another girl whose hair was done up elaborately with complicated braids working behind a register. There was two customers inside, sitting across from each other in the same booth. Most likely a couple. 

Glancing down at his blue three-fingered hands Kurt took a deep breath. He hadn't seen all of the diner through the windows, just the teensiest sight of the back part of the kitchen where— _hopefully_ —no one else was there. Normally he would never even steal, but there was a lot things he's been doing lately, so Kurt closed his eyes. Envisioning the white tiled room of the kitchen and he inhaled deeply. Opening his eyes once again, he found himself inside and alone,— _thankfully_!—and that no one had heard him teleporting. Kurt hurried across the room, stuffing food into the pockets of his trench coat, dimly aware of burns he had received from picking up entirely too hot food. Pain began to build up in chest, making him feel guilty. But it wasn't like he could very well pay for it. Kurt wasn't sure if it was guilt that he had distracted him or not, but he found himself jumping. Startled by voice from behind him.

“Um—are you the new guy? Katie should've told you we can't wear trench coats while we're near the fryers…”  Kurt became very aware of the nervous beads of sweat building on the back his neck, it was like someone had blown on his nape. _Coldly_.

“Um, hey. You're not in trouble or anything, you're new and mistakes happen. Why don'cha turn around?” Kurt turned slowly around, waiting for the screaming to start but only received a wide eyed look in return. The male, a cook from what Kurt could tell from the grease stained clothes, just blinked owlishly at him, mouth gaped open like a trout. “Well, you're certainly not the new guy.” The cook coughed out. “Are you?”

Kurt could see the other's eyes—such a light color of blue that it was near transparent—focusing on the bulging pockets of Kurt's trench coat.  “Oh. Oh. Well, I'm just gonna turn around and pretend I never saw this.” The cook said aloud, giving Kurt a look. Now it was Kurt's turn to give him a look of his own. Furrowing his brow Kurt asked very confused, “Vhat?”

“God, is one of your powers stupidity? Scram kid, come back tomorrow around noon. Watch out for the locals, they're god fearing and mutant fearing.” The cook waved his arms, unmistakably shooing Kurt away. Deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, he disappeared in a cloud of dark smoke. Kurt was happy to say he spent his day feeling a bit more full than he was use to. He couldn't get the diner's cook out his head for the rest of the day. His mind running through a different reasons as to why he wasn't met with discrimination.

 

—

 

 “I am a shit babysitter.” Logan said aloud to himself as he took in the sight of grimy, caked walls of one of many destroyed living rooms. So far he had only managed to corral the younger kids asleep, leaving the older teens to help him clean up the house. He sure as hell wasn't doing it all by himself and he wasn't going anywhere near the bathroom upstairs.  “You are,” John agreed from his seat on the couch. Logan narrowed his eyes at the young teen.

“Is there a reason why you're not off your ass and helping us clean?” John smiled, shifting through a bowl of popcorn next to him. He dug through them, flicking out kernels onto the floor. “I don't feel like it really.”  Logan nodded, moving behind the couch and flipping it over, sending John and his bowl of popcorn flying. Logan smirked at the pained whimpers coming from the other male. “Get to work, bub. There's a toilet brush upstairs calling your name.” Logan then left the living room in search of others. He could here the sound of several people upstairs cleaning and could hear Bobby and Rogue down the hall, debating on who should clean the staggering amount of dirty dishes.

“C'mon, Bobby. I just got these gloves yest'ahday. They'll get all gross with stuff.”

“Then switch to pair of cleaning gloves.” Bobby reasoned.  Logan could hear Rogue muttering something, something he never thought he'd hear her actually say. And what was with her dating that _Bobby kid_? Huffing, Logan decided to change his course of direction and climbed the stairs to upper levels of the house. The hallways were quiet save for the two teens picking flap-jacks off the ceiling—how a group of eleven, ten, and eight years old managed that he doesn't know–everything was going good so far; no one was hurt too bad and the house wasn't entirely in shambles which in Logan's mind seemed like a pretty good success for someone with zero babysitting experience or skill. Peering into rooms of the sleeping children he found himself plagued with a longing. _To stay_.

Which he had considered many, many times. But how could he stay? He still had too many damn questions centering around…himself. And with the Professor unable to help him, ( He had spouted some beehive comparison of the mind and began to go on how it was so complicated it all was. It was utter bullshit and Chuck knew it! ) he wouldn't find any answers staying here. But he supposes after finding his said answer to his missing memories, he would stay. For Rogue. He can't help but snort at how he so casually flirted with Jean in the beginning. One eye and her were inseparable and seeing himself become a strain on it was enough to squash any little feelings he felt for the red head. 

“Hey,” the soft voice came through the door near the end of the hall way. Logan found the room's owner wide awake, squeezing his eyes tightly with every change of the channel. Propping himself against the doorway, Logan leveled the kid with a look. “Any reason you're not asleep?” The boy looked away from the TV screen, eyes looking comically big behind his pair of magnified glasses lens. “I don't sleep. Well, can't really. It's my thing.”

“Oh, why didn't you say anything?” Logan asked, feeling the slightest bit guilty for sending the kid to his room. The kid waved his hand dismissively at Logan, looking very nonchalant about the whole ordeal. “It's okay. I've got a TV and other things to keep me busy up here, Mr. Logan.” Logan raised an eyebrow at that. “Just call me Logan.” The kid nodded, returning his gaze to the glowing monitor of his TV screen.

Two hours and thirty minutes later Logan was completely worn out. The house was finally— _finally_!—clean. And he was alone. By himself, as in everyone else was asleep snug tight in their beds and off to—“Fuck you, John!” “Fuck you too, asshat!”—or maybe not everyone was asleep. Logan huffed from his seat on the couch, his forearms pillowing his head. The voices escalated from each passing moment, becoming so loud and vulgar that one might think Logan had permanently taught them. With another sigh followed by a groan, Logan stood up from his seat—in search of the screaming match. It wasn't all that hard to find them. He found them in the kitchen, both red in the face and spewing obscenities at each other. Logan had barely taken a step into the kitchen when a coffee maker was thrown at him. He sidestepped it quickly, mouth gaped and ready to start beating heads together.

“You know what? Fine, keep lying to yourself, Bobby! Don't come crying to me when you take your head outta your ass!” John swept by, stomping out the kitchen and pass Logan. Logan watched John's retreating form before turning his gaze back to Bobby, eyebrows raised in question. Bobby reddened, muttering apologies and moving quickly throughout the kitchen, picking back up the thrown appliances. “So,” Logan began. “Are you going to tell me what that hissy fit was?” Bobby paused from his work. “It's just something stupid. It's–it's nothing.” Logan rolled his eyes.

“That,”—he points to the broken coffee pot on the floor—“wasn't just nothing.” Bobby rubs furiously at his red leaking eyes. “C-can we not talk about it? I just can't.” Logan than did the probably most awkward and benign thing in his life. A fatherly it'll-be-okay shoulder pat.

“Okay. We don't have to talk about. But can you do one thing for me?” Bobby nods, “What is it?”

“Can you go to bed. **Please**. No more messes until 11:00 by tomorrow!”

 

—

 

“So you're telling me that a mutant got past the White House's defenses by himself and none of you— _absolutely no one_ —could even stop him?” Tony Stark looked incredulously around the room full of the nation's capital guards. Thirty three muscle-bound adults taken out single-handedly by one person, it made Tony's lips twitch up into a smirk.

“I want to shake this mutant's hand.” 

“Tony!” Came Pepper's cry. “Tony—you just can't say those types of things,” her voice lowered. “That's just…what am I going to do with you?” He kept smiling, despite Pepper's pointy high heel stomping down on his big toe. One of the agents coughed—Tony thinks his name is Haddock, but he's not entirely sure. He was too busy silently laughing over the baboons that were chosen to protect their nation's President.—interrupting Pepper's tirade. “Well it was a mutant, we couldn't apprehend it properly with this erratic use of its powers.” Tony snorts. _Erratic use of its power._ They didn't even call it by it's gender, dehumanizing the mutant without a flicker of remorse. But than again, he was a criminal. Luckily Tony didn't need to say anything as Bruce quickly changed the subject.

“Is there any footage of this mutant? So we'll know what we're looking for?”  A different agent, this time female and so darkly tanned that she was almost what Tony considered leather, spoke. “All of the cameras have been sabotaged. This was more than a random attack on the President's life. This was planned, but we're not entirely sure if anyway else was involved.” “You're not sure? The mutant can't be in two places at once, agent.” Clint said gruffly, looking extremely put out from his perch on the couch.

“Technically it can,” Natasha told Clint. “A mutant's power varies from each individual. I once met in man in Cambodia that could levitate things with his mind and little boy in Rwanda that could manipulate water.” Agent Leather nods, “Yes.. We can't correctly identify it's power either as well. A lot of the agents have claimed to see it while it was seen at a different point and time by another. We've pinpointed to two likely ones, however; cloning and teleportation.” Tony's brow furrows, “Can you give use a description of what he looks like? We can't really do anything based on his powers alone.”

She looks over her shoulder to other agents and beckons them forward. 

“He was blue and had really weird eyes..” A burly looking black agent states.

“It was small. Probably around five foot four.” Another agent says softly.

“Sharp teeth. And a pointed tail. He could crawl along the walls and stay there.”

Tony and the others wait for information but receive none. “You've got to be kidding. There's nothing to practically go on! There's quite a few blue people in the world and it could be anyone—even Loki.” Tony snaps, feel extremely irritated that Shield had decided to drag him into this. Thor, who's been silent the majority of the meeting, grunts and glares at Tony. “My brother is imprisoned on Asgard. I would appreciate it, Son of Stark, that you keep my brother's name out of your Midguardian troubles. Loki is paying for his sins.”

“Yeah, but are you sure?” Clint asks Thor angrily. The tension in room is electrified, crackling through the air as Thor levels Clint with a glare that could melt ice caps. Bruce quickly situates himself between the two. “If Thor says it isn't Loki, it isn't. We have better things to do than quarrel on stupid stuff. We have a mutant to find.” Tony sighs from his corner of the room.

“This is going to be a pain in the ass. I can just feel it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just for the record, Tony and others don't know Loki is Jotun, just that he can shift forms and assume other shapes because of magic yadda yadda.  
> Anywho, mistakes are mistakes that are my mistakes.


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay. This was a bitch to write. Also should I post this up on Fanfiction.net as well?  
> Comments, kudos, and bookmarks are very appreciated!  
> Thank you all for the good feedback and bookmarks.  
> It's slowly climbing :)
> 
> Also sorry for any mistakes once again.  
> I kinda mixed both comic with movie verse and I'm not entirely sure how some things go but I researching it. But I may miss things.
> 
> Thank you!

 

  Kurt went to the little diner three days later, after spending a great deal of time contemplating the cook's offer of free food. It wasn't like he himself had any money or could go just into any store and buy some, and let's face it. If the cook hasn't called the police to search for a demonic blue teen than it was likely he wasn't going to anytime soon. He tried cleaning himself up as much as possible,—which turned out very impossible as water pump behind the church only churned up brownish muck with a gritty texture—spitting into his cupped hands and wiping away the dust and dirt that collected on his navy blue skin. It was disgusting, but what other choice did he have? He was getting hungry and couldn't risk getting caught. Yesterday he had dug through the town's dump for a current Newspaper wasn't all that surprised to find his crime splayed across the front for all to see. There was a brief description of him, no picture and a reward for any knowledge of the attacker. It was enough to quell any midnight walks for him.

 

Kurt pulled away from his thoughts and walked over to the broken floor windows of the church to get a glance out his reflection. Seeing how he wasn't too homely looking he deemed it passable and vanished with in a smokey cloud and reappeared seconds later in the deserted kitchen of Barbra's. The cook didn't even bother to glance up from mopping, only grunting out his hello. Kurt stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do or say.

“Hey, blue. You're actually here,” the cook wiped at his sweaty brow, grimacing as he placed the mop away in a nearby closet. Kurt watched him silently, still feeling very wary. “I was wonderin' when you would show up, but you were probably scared with all them anti-muntantists out there. Hey is mutantist a word?” Kurt blinked owlishly at the cook, feeling even more confused than he already was.

“I…do not know. As you can tell probably tell, I am not vrom here. I am not an expert on the English language.”

The cook turned around, face tilted into a frown. Now that Kurt wasn't completely overwhelmed with terror of being caught and possibly maimed, he sat back and actually looked at the other man. The cook had unruly brown hair, piercing green eyes and thin lips; he also had a small hooked nose that worked oddly well with the man's features. He was attractive. “You hungry, blue? I made the most kick ass burgers earlier and they're still good.” He waits for Kurt's answer, looking eager to please.

“I suppose I am…” Kurt manages to say.

“Good! Someone so skinny needs a big appetite. I'll throw em in the microwave for us.”

The cook moved around the kitchen, completely relaxed. The other male walked—more like lead forcefully—Kurt over to a metal slab that would have to pass off as a makeshift table and began to lay out napkins and utensils. Kurt was pushed not unkindly into a rickety seat, a straw thrust into his open palm. He hadn't even heard the other speaking, too deep in shock.  “So I'll just set out some tea for us as well. You look like the kind of person to have a sweet tooth, maybe if you're still hungry you can try some apple pie later.”

The microwave dinged, drawing the cook's attention. He held up one finger as if Kurt was actually replying to the one-sided conversation. “One sec, blue.” He left, quickly returning with an armful of plates steaming with burgers and fries. It smelled delicious and made Kurt's mouth water. The cook slid a plate in front of Kurt before taking a seat across from him, fingers intertwined with Kurt's and whispering to the makeshift table between them. Feeling slightly awkward Kurt let the man say whatever he was going to say and sat there, watching.

  “Bless us Oh Lord, and these thy gifts, which we are about to receive, from thy bounty, through Christ, Our Lord. Amen,” the cook looked up, chuckling at the odd look on the mutant's face.

“Sorry about that. It's a habit now more than anything. Dig in, Blue!” “Vat..vat vas that?” Kurt asked, slightly awed. “Oh just a before meals prayer. I grew up Catholic. I'm not all too religiony anymore but that stuck with me.” “It vas beautiful..” Kurt whispered. His throat felt tight, his burning with hot tears. “Vy're you being so nice to me? I don't know you, and nor you know me.” The cook's face took on a sad expression, his eyes glazed and looking painful before breaking out into a blinding smile.

“Well for starters you can call me Matt. Let's just say I know the feeling. Or rather my brother did.” The cook— _Matt!_ Kurt's brain supplied—ran a hand tiredly over his face, looking like he had aged ten years from just the mere mention of his brother. “I was seventeen,” Matt began. “My brother, James was just a little kid, maybe no more than eleven. He had wheat blond hair and was about as pale as it. Well anyways, our old man being the religious nut he is, was very faithful and took everything that came out of that damned book to heart. The whole punish the child, the rod bullshit? He took that literally and was always beating on us, it began typical and we grew use to it.”

Kurt blinked back tears, struggling to swallow against the dry lump in his throat. He might've never experienced personally what it was like to have parents, but he had been beaten most of his life. He always heard of parents becoming the ultimate shield for their children, some even going so far as to take death in their place. Kurt gripped at front of his trench coat, fingers trembling. Matt continues on, “Well, James had his little friends and what not in the neighborhood and I guess—I don't know what happened exactly, but Dad had caught James kissing the boy. Not on the mouth or anything but it still pissed the old man something mighty off. He beat James something awful that day, as if he was nothing more that a dirty dog”—Matt's voice thickens, his southern accent coming out even more—“I went to Jamie's room. You know, to check up on him? He was covered in these fucking welts, bleeding all over himself. Some o' his teeth are a missing and I was pretty damn sure his rib cage was broke. I couldn't do a single damn except take him into my room and put him to bed. I thought maybe Dad would be in a better mood 'morrow and I could take 'im to a doctor's.”

“You don't have to tell me anymore,” Kurt says softly. Noticing the build up of tears in Matt's eyes.

“No, ya need to hear. Anyways, we all get a big surprise in the morning. Jamie done healed himself—every single bruise, cut, broken bone, and missing teeth. Are gone.” Matt holds up his hands, as he emphasizes his point and makes a strange poof sound. “It was like time had reversed itself. It was beautiful. He looked beautiful and come next morning Dad comes in, standing there in the doorway as if Satan himself came to personally greet him. A few minutes go by before the old man launches himself at Jamie, dragging him by the hair, callin' im a devil and a faggot. And I just stood there, and let it happen. I tried fighting a few times afterward but I was just the little ole greenbean, not that that's an excuse but…what could I do? He tortured Jamie, cut him up every way imaginable. I guess it was too much on Jamie's body, cause he died on the twentieth day. I ran away to my auntie down here in Boston and got my G.E.D and well, the rest is pretty much history, blue. Now eat up, for your food gets cold.”

Kurt eats his burger but can't get rid of the bitter that's still in house mouth from Matt's story. It seemed like he wasn't the only demon in this world after all.

“Thank you,” Kurt whispers around his mouthful of food. Matt smiles from across the table. “Don't mention it, friend.”

 

_Friend…_

 

 

That makes a warmth bloom inside Kurt's chest, causing his cheeks to darken in a shade of indigo. He feels warm and giddy. He smiles back at Matt before taking a bite into his burger.

 

* * *

 

 

 “So help me if you do that again I will tie you to your bed and you'll never see the light of day again, bub!” Logan, despite known for being boisterous and menacing, it doesn't seem to affect the child residents of Xavier's school. Especially John. That little shit had been pranking him left in right and even went as far as to buttering up all the stairs. Thankfully no one had gotten hurt too bad after that. ( Rogue had taken quite the tumble and landed on her ass. The boys are laughing over it! ) And now everything Logan owned was pink. Fucking pink! Pink shoes, pink shirts, pink pants, and even pink underwear.

( And that had him slightly disturbed. Had John been pilfering through his things and specifically chosen to dye his underwear pink?)

Logan growled, his bones aching in his hand, just wishing to run his claws through something. John's laughter could be heard two floors down as Logan tore through his room, trying to find something desperately that wasn't pink. Rogue had to fight down her laughter as she helped Logan, in the end she was more of a hindrance than a help and she was sent out along with Bobby. Logan was reduced to having to wear the X-Men suit for the remainder of his babysitting. That was until Jean and Ororo called later that day.

“What do you mean it's going to be another day or so? I thought the Professor gave you 'exact' coordinates.” Logan asked feeling a bit panicky. He didn't know how much longer he could survive watching a houseful of kids. 

“Logan,” Ororo's voice crackled over the phone, her tone light and passive as always. “I'm sorry that this is going longer than intended but he's changed places again, and I can't get in contact with Professor or Scott at the moment. The Professor mentioned visiting a friend…” “So let me get this straight,” Logan's voice cut in rudely. “That _Wheels_ left both of us like sitting ducks? I'm not meant to babysit kids… if this ends up taking longer I'm out of here!”

There's silence on the other end of phone.

“Logan?” It's Jean now, her voice sounding very constricted and…was she amused? “Do I detect a hint of worry? Is the Wolverine going to be done in by children of all things?”

“…they're evil,” Logan whispers in reply. He winces as the phone crackles and whines, the combined laughter of Ororo and Jean blasting his eardrums. “Oh god, this is too good. Just wait until the others hear—” Logan than promptly hangs up. He rubs a tired hand over his face until he hears a soft voice followed by a tug on the back his pants. He turns seeing one of the children, a little girl with a kaleidoscope of colors making up her eyes.

“Mr. Logan?” She asks hesitantly, eyes wide and taking up the majority of her chubby face. “Yes?” He answers her, tired. “I just wanted to let you know that John accidentally set the top floor's curtains on fire and that Rogue found you some clothes.” Logan groans. The little girl smiles up at him, “It'll be okay, Mr. Logan.” She places a small hand on his thigh and pats him, going a mile a minute on her up in coming tea party she's having at five with Mr. Teddy Bear and Lala Loopsie. She even extends the invitation to him and for a second, he considers taking it.

 

* * *

 

 

So far there's being nothing. Freaking nothing and it was driving Tony crazy. Why had the world not caught up on the newest technological advances? There wasn't any calls, sightings, or even footage of the said assassin mutant and if Tony didn't know better, he would've said the whole damn thing wasn't real at all. But with huge knife stab taking the center of the President's mahogany desk, it was indeed very real. There was nothing to do but to let DNA and citizens do the talking. But come a few days later it was the same thing. _Nothing_.

“I told you he wouldn't be in the data base,” Tony tells Fury. Ole one eye gives him a look that almost rival's Tony's father's look of shame, but it doesn't dispel any of Tony's _I fucking told you_ attitude. Everyone by now looks dead on their feet, not use to staying up all hours of the night finding the a lone assailant. Well out of Tony, Bruce, Clint, and Natasha that is. Thor looks like the biggest breeze could knock the guy over and Captain was just ornery without less than 8 hours of sleep. “Any other ideas from, Mr. Stark?” Fury barks out.

Clint scoots forward in his rolling chair, arms crossed and looking extremely bored. “We could ask around in the mutant communities? Maybe they're hiding him?”

“Nope, that's not going to happen,” Bruce says looking up from the illuminated screen of an IPad. “Even if they did have him, they wouldn't tell us. The Government has been less than understanding to mutant citizens. And I highly doubt that he's there. Not all mutants hate non-mutants and there's a few advocates willing to speak on their behalf. This mutant's actions would further instigate a war between mutants and non-muntants, so if they seen him, he's already dead for crossing that shaky line.”

“But that's all hypothetical?” Steve asks.

“Well, yes.” Bruce replies.

“Well,” Steve clicks his tongue, looking around the room. “I'm not trying to sound like I have a swollen ego but…”

“Like Stark?” Clint added, chuckling.

"Hey!” Came from Tony.

“Despite the government treating them unfairly, we're not the government. We're the Avengers, _the Heroes_. They should trust us, _right_?”

Tony sighs, “Yeah, nope. The government made S.H.I.E.L.D which made us, so who are we by extension?”

Steve hangs his head down, “The government.” “You got it buddy!”

“Well what the hell are we suppose to do then?” Clint asks angrily, “We're fucking stuck!”

Thor clears his throat loudly, gaining the attention of everyone in the room. “I suppose we could locate this being with a spell of some sort?”

“Why didn't you say anything sooner? That would've made our lives significantly easier!” Tony asks.

“Well…my father has ordered our people to no longer interfere with Midguard. I'm afraid my bro—”

“Oh please, please don't say it.” Cling whispers sadly from his corner. Natasha pats him reassuringly.

“Loki would have to help, I'm sure the Alfather would agree.”

“Fuck.”

The room erupts into angry yelling voices. And it enough to make Tony throw himself out a goddamn window. He really really wished Pepper had been allowed to help. He would make her sneak in vodka or some kind of variant to help him deal. Either way, it looks like Loki's coming for a visit from his cell up in space and Fury is probably going to have Stark Tower— _Tony, it's the Avengers Tower now!_ —swarming with agents.

He sends Bruce an eye roll and mouths, _Wanna get out of here?_

Luckily for him Bruce comes along without a complaint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah Loki.  
> Ah Random OC Cook that wasn't even suppose to be in here.  
> Well I just had to add some kind of person there for Kurt.  
> There's gonna be a shit ton of chapters for this xD Gah


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't updated in like three hundred billion years because of reasons, and I apologize. I will finish this damn it.

 

 

  Kurt kept going back to Barbara's for lunch and dinner with Matt whenever the tiny diner was deserted. Matt than explained to him that Barbara's wasn't doing so good and that they mostly just opened from 6:00 am to 1:00pm now to cut costs and save money. Matt didn't particularly earn that much money due to his lack of education. But the other male was vehement on attending the local collage soon. Kurt had grown to appreciate his newfound friend but had worries of revealing his identity. He wasn't sure if Matt was an avid reader of news, or even watched it. Would the man's demeanor change if he knew who Kurt truly was? It was so frustrating to Kurt!

For the first time in his life he had a _friend_ and couldn't even tell him his name. But today he made his decision: he would tell Matt casually over lunch. He would throw it out there randomly—preferably when Matt was distracted with something—and just let it all out. And if things went bad he could just teleport back to the church. Kurt hadn't told Matt were he was staying. Thankfully, Matt hadn't pushed the issue. Today, though, the other male seemed particularly interested into getting know on just about everything about Kurt, so much that it was starting to annoy the mutant.

“Parents?” Matt asked politely as possible.

“Vell, everyone has zem. I just do not know mine.” Kurt replied as he helped Matt clean up the kitchen.

Matt had began to teaching him small things to cook. Like cheesy omelets, bacon, and home made biscuits. Matt was patient and kind, Kurt couldn't help picturing the other as teacher someday.  “So who took care of you?” Kurt would've laughed usually but stopped himself, thinking back to the past of the " _foster parents_ " he had. The only reason they took care of him was because they expected something out of it. But with his stubbornness and defiance he quickly became a revolving item, passed from person to person and of the few occasions: sold.

“Just my foster parents. I had a lot of zem.”

Matt winced, rubbing tentatively at the back of his nape. “Shit, sorry. I was prying wasn't I?”

Kurt grins toothily at him, incisors gleaming underneath the fluorescent lighting. “Yes, it's annoying. Perhaps I'll start my turn of asking zee questions?”

Matt smiles back, “I wouldn't mind that one bit, blue.”

Kurt paused, thinking on what to say, his tail twitching lazily to and fro. “Vhat do you fink of zee mutant who attacked the President?” He stiffened, waiting for Matt's answer. “Well,” Matt huffed. “That was wrong to do, despite how unfairly the government has handled mutants in the past. You can't always fight fire with fire but let it burn out over time naturally.” “Do you fink zem worthy of a hard punishment?” 

“ _No_ , but they made a bad choice and unfortunately sometimes they have to pay the price. When's my next turn to be asking questions, blue?” Kurt laughed nervously as he swept the dirt off the floor and into a dustpan.

“I suppose it is your turn. But let's do something else, you can tell me how you made that.…what did you call it yesterday?”

“Cookie stuffed Oreo?” “Yes, zey were very good.”

Matt sighed, dusting his hands off before leaving in search of his cookbook he kept around. Kurt silently made note to never allow Matt to be caught up in his troubles.

 

—

 

 After a long winded and hastily made negotiations made with the Alfather and S.H.I.E.L.D everyone had received the okay on Loki's arrival. It quickly became a massive project turning the tower into a more complicated Fort Knox. For starters, all the windows were replaced with something much more resistant to people-throwing, Tony had some blue print written up on some magic canceling device.

 “Jarvis? Does this food have any kind of sedatives at all? I wouldn't mind all that much if Reindeer games wasn't all that lucid.”Tony earned a smirk from Barton, a smack to the back of his head by Pepper, and the mightiest of mighty glares from Thor. Who Tony might mention looked like he was sweating away into a puddle of bronze skin and golden hair. Out of all the people in the room who hasn't met Daddy Odin yet, you would've thought Thor would at least be the most confident about it.

It was taking Tony all he can not to sneak off and play Russian roulette with the hardest liquor known to man in the privacy of his own room. And even if he did somehow accomplish that feat—he probably wouldn't make it pass the stream of S.H.I.E.L.D agents and the chauffeur Pepper had become.

“Tony, behave.” Pepper said through clenched teeth.

“I am behaving,” Tony told her with a smile, “I don't think I'm the one who even needs to behave. Someone should keep a close eye on Barton. He's the one that still has beef with Loki.” Barton sent Tony a look from across the room, looking equally parts upset and amused.

“Hey, an eye for an eye.”

“Which,” Bruce says ushering them around the room into their designated seats. “Isn't how the American justice system works and nor should we encourage that kind of behavior.”

“Which is why Midgard is often prone to invasions by other realms.” Thor says, not unkindly. Because hey, it's kinda true. Steve rubs at his temples, as if he's the only one truly suffering from a headache. “Look let's just be cordial. Loki helps us, we find the mutant, boom, he's out of here.”

Clint rolls his eyes and plops down in a seat beside Natasha, hands tightened around his bow and arrows. Thor gives everyone a nervous grin before calling up to Heimdal that they're ready. They wait, breath caught in their throats as a blinding blue-white light in a single huge ray descends from the roof of Tony's ceiling. ( Tony was practically frothing at the mouth at the display, fingers itching on how it all works.) It dims before the light disappears altogether, the lone hunched figure of Odin—he surprisingly doesn't look like how Tony imagines him—standing in the center of the room.

His withered aged face was expressionless, and the figure behind him was tall and gangly.

_And blue?_

“Holy shit, that's Loki.” Steve gasps.

Tony doesn't know what to start on. That America's golden boy had uttered an expletive or that now Loki was some kind of slightly attractive avatar. _NO! BAD, TONY!_

 “You don't think those things in Avatar are real do you?” This time it's Clint talking. Natasha's mouth is a thin white line and she hovers protectively over her partner as if Loki would come at them like a wild animal of some kind. Tong doesn't put it pass Reindeers games to not pull that kind of stunt. Fury breaks the wave of excitement and curious glances by striding forward, hand outstretched leisurely in welcome.“We welcome you to Earth, Allfather.” Odin eyes Fury's hand but doesn't shake it and settles for doing a small bow of the head. His armor gleams underneath the lights as he jerks Loki forward by a silver chain attached to a silver collar around the young god's neck. “I believe you all require my son to find this…” The Allfather trails off.

“Mutant.” Steve supplies. Loki's once green eyes are now a ruby red, dull and lifeless. He doesn't even acknowledge the others' presence. Odin grunts, “Loki is not permitted to take off his bindings. You are not to harm Loki and are to return him when Thor deems fit. Despite a shamed prince, he still is one. I won't hesitate to bring war onto this realm.”

Fury holds out his hands, “Now there's no need for talk like that. I assure you, despite Loki's…past actions we won't allow harm to come to him.” Fury then turns around, facing the others. “Isn't that right, gentlemen and lady?”

Clint mumbles something underneath his breath and earns a dig in the ribs from Natasha's elbow and manages to nod his head. Steve and Bruce agree while Tony kinda just nods along. Fury claps his hands. “Well it's settled, Allfather, if I may?” Odin grunts out his confirmation and allows the other to take Loki from behind him.

“Say hello to your new team member, avengers!”

 

—

 

It's the fifth night of his babysitting when he hears someone in the kitchen. It's probably one of the younger kids, playing hide-n-seek in the dark, he's caught them more than once in the past doing it, and goes down to inspect. Instead he comes across a red-eyed Bobby sniffling into strawberry ice-cream container. Logan lingers in the doorway of the kitchen, undecided if he should leave and pretend he didn't see anything, or try another pathetic attempt on talking it out with the poor kid. Just thinking about it causes him to shiver, and it seems this time it isn't his choice as Bobby sees him. His blue eyes looking comically wide and fearful.

“Jesus, doesn't anyone sleep around here?” Logan asks coming in, stepping towards the fridge and opening it. He frowns at the assortments of healthy foods and sugary delights. The only drinks inside were water bottles, apple juice, and chocolate milk. “I guess not,” Bobby replied back.

The teen places his spoon on top of the kitchen table, his shoulders tense.

“Is there any beer here at all, maybe stashed somewhere?”

“This a school,” Bobby says. Logan merely just raises in an eyebrow in reply. “For kids? Anyway, there's soda in the cabinet next to your left.” Logan sighs happily at finding the coca cola bottles and wordlessly holds out his own to Bobby. The teen takes it, blowing out a mist that freezes the out side of the bottle. Bobby holds it back to the man.

“Thanks. I bet that comes in handy.” Logan says before twisting the bottle cap off. “You have no idea.”

“Look kid, I can see you're…upset over. Whatever it was with fire-starter, but you seriously need to go to bed. It's obviously bothering you.” Logan waited, not actually expecting the kid to actually reply. But when the kid does it's like the damn Niagara Falls. Everything comes rushing out.

“John thinks I'm gay and I'm lying to myself and Rogue!” Bobby blurted.

“Oh,” was Logan's response. The kid opens his mouth to say more but stops when Logan holds out his hand. “Look, kid. You kinda just have this way about you and…”

“Oh, not you too!” Bobby cries. “I'm sorry, you just do. To me.” Logan says, he opens his mouth to say more when there's a shattering of glass from hallway along with the padded footsteps of boots. He barely makes it when he shoots across the table, sliding on his belly and sending both Bobby and the tub of ice cream flying when the kitchen is littered with bullets and flash bangs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ironically, with Steve cussing in this chapter I wrote this before even seeing Age of Ultron. Cussing Steve is my favorite Steve now.


End file.
